


The Price of Atonement

by thetoxicstrawberry



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, madara navigates modern life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-04 12:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10990866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetoxicstrawberry/pseuds/thetoxicstrawberry
Summary: An alternate universe in which Madara survives the war and spends his days (flirting with) irritating the Hokage.





	1. Limbo

“He’s doing it again,” Kotetsu said and leaned in so he wouldn’t be heard. 

Izumo nodded, “third time this week. I wonder what he’s thinking.”

“All I know is it gives me the creeps.”

Izumo pushed at his sleeves. Even sheltered by the shade of the awning, the heat of summer was overwhelming and sweat pooled under his thick shinobi garb. 

Despite the temperature, he stood in the full sunlight, unmoving. Only a few feet from the open gate, arms crossed tight against his chest, decked out in long sleeves and full battle armor: Uchiha Madara. 

“How long has it been?” Kotetsu asked.

“An hour and 45 minutes.”

“Should we tell the Hokage?”

Izumo shook his head, “No, he’ll just tell us to ignore him again.”

“Ah man,” Kotetsu moaned and ran a quick hand through his hair. “How does he expect us to do that? I mean, look at him. If I didn’t know he was a person I would swear that he…”

A sharp jab to the ribs cut him off mid-sentence. 

Izumo, gestured with wide eyes to where Madara stood, his neck turned and his eyes stared vacantly at the two shinobi guards. 

“I’m taking my leave now,” he said. His voice low and even. “Go ahead and forewarn the counterfeit Hokage that I mean to have words with him.”

Madara then turned back and walked leisurely towards the village center. 

The two shinobi held their breath until his body retreated out of their sight. 

“Thank the heavens,” Kotetsu sighed. “I thought he would never leave. Do you think we should notify Kakashi-sama?”

Izumo shook his head. “Naw, I figure if we had to deal with him, he should too.”

**********

It had been one year since the end of the war. When the five armies converged against Uchiha Obito and Madara had thwarted death twice. Once with the help of the Rinnegan and the second when the Sage of the Six Paths, in an act he called “mercy,” but Madara deemed punishment, had granted him another chance at redemption.

Afterwards, he had spent months caged in a cell beside the Uchiha brat, who no matter the provocation, refused to provide him with any sort of entertainment to pass the long hours. Leaving Madara with too much time for rumination. He cursed Obito, Zetsu, and the day he laid eyes on that stone tablet, but most of all, he cursed himself for being stupid enough to fall for Kaguya’s scheme. 

Death would have been a mercy, but Madara was too proud to end his life himself.

When the day finally came, and Sasuke was released, Madara had resigned himself to a life of quiet imprisonment. Then three months ago, that sharingan sham-artist had come skipping down into the prison to announce himself Hokage and proclaim that Madara had been deemed safe enough to reenter the village. Under the stipulation that he could never leave. 

Ever.

This meant a seal was placed on him that provided a swift and shocking blow to his system, which rendered him unconscious should he ever try to breach the village walls. Madara knew this because he’d tried it. Twelve times by his count. And each time he’d woken up in the hospital to the Hokage’s mocking eye smiles. 

_“Dara-chan, one of these days you’re going to learn.”_

It wasn’t just the seal. The seal Madara could live with, it was the second part of his curse that made his life intolerable. The Senju woman had told him it was pathway damage to his chakra system, brought on by being the ten-tailed jinchuuriki. The resulting scarring to his chakra stream often caused painful misfirings when the energy could no longer flow due to a blockage, but instead had to slowly dissipate back into his system. 

He never let the agony of it show. Sometimes it was excruciating, coming on quick in sharp bursts of fire running through his limbs and deep into his belly, but mostly it remained a dull ache that settled right under his skin. 

That insufferable woman had called it “untreatable” and “permanent.” 

In a way, Madara knew he should be grateful. He had been given a chance to live on and make amends for the destruction he caused, but it left him…what did that Uchiha brat call it?

Oh yes, helpless as a kitten.

But Madara was no kitten. His reputation still garnered him power and he was reminded of this as people brushed him with fearful glances as they moved aside. 

He smirked. If he was going to be stuck in purgatory, then he might as well enjoy it.   
**********

Kakashi slipped a sheet of paper from the large stack on his desk, his eyes blurred a moment from the strain of reading all day. He took a sip of coffee that had long since gone cold, just as the door to his office swung open and Madara strode in.

He sighed, not even bothering to hide his exasperation. “Madara.”

“Imposter,” the word sounded too formal coming from his mouth, stripping it slightly of his intention. 

“What is it now? Where kids throwing rocks at you again?”

An eyebrow twitch, the only indication that Kakashi’s words had irritated the Uchiha. 

“No,” Madara said. “But since you addressed the issue, I want to clarify that in my day, children who did not obey were severely punished. The leniency given to these youths is why shinobi have…”

“Madara,” Kakashi interjected. “Where’s Sasuke?”

“How should I know? He’s the one tasked with watching me, not the other way around.”

It was true, Sasuke was supposed to be guarding him during Madara’s active hours. Even though he could no long mold chakra, Kakashi wasn’t foolish enough to allow him to wander the village unmonitored. Madara was wily and persistent once he set a goal. Not even death had stopped him the last time he set his mind to something. 

No, Kakashi would never make the mistake of underestimating him. 

It was part of Sasuke’s probation to watch over Madara, despite the protest of the council who thought it daft to assign an Uchiha with guarding another Uchiha. Kakashi’s reasoning for tasking him with the duty was multifaceted. His official statement was Sasuke was one of two individuals within the village that had enough power to subdue Madara, in the unlikely event that he regained control of his chakra, and would be less easily manipulated than Naruto. 

Kakashi also saw that it gave Sasuke a purpose within the village, while providing the impression of protecting the citizens of Konoha from a greater threat than he himself was, and proving that Sasuke put the needs of the village above his loyalty to his clan. 

Plus, he knew it really pissed Sasuke off. 

Kakashi didn’t doubt that he was nearby. He typically didn’t stray far, keeping close enough to watch the Uchiha elder, with enough space that he couldn’t annoy him. Kakashi didn’t blame Sasuke. If he could seal the Hokage door the same way the gate was to prohibit Madara from entering, he would. But Kakashi knew that the wild Uchiha would just find other ways to get his attention. He only wished that Sasuke would keep a tighter hold on him. 

“Did you need something?” Kakashi asked. “Or have you just missed seeing me?”

The Uchiha paused, his eyes boring down at Kakashi, before saying, “I was standing at the gate, trying to decide if you are deliberately inept at your job or simply too stupid to see your shortcomings.”

“And?” Kakashi asked, as he leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands. “You concluded?”

“I couldn’t decide. Those two idiots kept interrupting my thoughts with their girlish chatter.”

Kakashi could feel a headache coming on but consciously stopped himself from rubbing at his temples. He knew it aggravated Madara when he remained calm during his fits and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he tested his patience. 

“If Kotetsu and Izumo irritate you, then maybe you should stop spending so much time with them.”

Another flash of anger flickered on Madara’s brows, before he continued, “My point is, it has come to my attention, that even though you were not the one who shackled me to the god forsaken plane, you are still my warden. And as my warden, you have neglected to see to it that my talents be utilized.”

Kakashi blinked, once, then twice, and leaned back into his chair. 

“What I’m hearing is…you’re bored?”

Madara threw two gloved hands up.

“Oh course I’m bored. There is nothing to do in this shit hole village.”

“The village that you helped create.”

Madara stumbled for a second, mouth slightly agape, before regaining his composure.

“Nonetheless, you will either find something to entertain me or I swear to you, I will find ways to entertain myself. And I assure you, you will not like it.”


	2. The Losing End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort not to lose face, Madara has to follow through with the results of his own demands. As he finds himself outwitted once again by the Rokudaime.

He should have known better. 

When Madara made his request to that dim-witted Hokage, he should have predicted something like this would happen. But he didn’t and he acknowledged it was only due to his own insistence that he ended up in such a mess, but he couldn’t back out. Doing so would give the other man the satisfaction of winning and there were few things Madara hated more than losing. 

Hashirama used to tease that Madara wasn’t gifted with natural talent, only pettiness and a stubborn drive for competition, which was mistaken for genius. He disagreed, of course, believing instead that it was a combination of both that drove him to perfection. 

He had been this way as far back as he could remember. First with his siblings, who provided him with amusement, but not much contest. Being the eldest by birthright gave him an edge against them, making him the winner in everything from fighting to tree climbing. It wasn’t until that day by the river that he would find his true rival. 

Against Hashirama, he could finally test his skill. It wasn’t merely the trivial competitions, like rock skipping, that excited him either. It was his desire to impress Hashirama. To be acknowledged by him as an equal. More than an equal. 

Growing up during the Warring States Era, there wasn’t much time for praise. Children only found honor in survival, so every bit of approval that Hashirama imparted was a treasure to Madara.

As they grew and the fighting intensified, his competitive nature merged with his desire to protect. Guilt over his inability to save his younger siblings deepened his pursuit of power in an effort to shelter Izuna from the same fate as their siblings. 

And when he finally lost Izuna, it left a wound on his heart that never healed. He tried to focus that energy on building the village—the dream that Hashirama and he shared, and for a short time it worked. Until it didn’t anymore. His combative nature morphed into a sick madness which sought to cleanse this world in order to make it anew, with only Hashirama’s strength to challenge that goal.

But all of it was for nothing, he realized. Hashirama was truly gone now. His edo tensei faded into dust. His only competition now was the Rokudaime and, if his tallies were correct, Madara was currently losing. He frowned at that thought, not really certain how the power balance always seemed to skew in favor of the gray-haired nuisance. 

The doors in front of him parted, breaking Madara from his thoughts. A figure hesitated in the entryway for a moment before walking over to greet him. Madara noted the thick scarring across the bridge of his nose and the annoying smile pointed in his direction. He scowled back at him, but wasn’t sure if it was received or muted by the shade of the tree he stood under. 

“Uchiha Madara,” he said. “My name is Umino Iruka. I’m a teacher here at the academy.”

Madara didn’t even brush a glance at his outstretched hand, only defaulted back to his usual unwavering stare. He did, however, notice the slight tremble in the younger man’s voice. 

“Okay then,” Iruka said, moving his hands into his pockets to hide his uncertainty. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I didn’t realize you were here. One of the kids saw you through the window. They’re really excited to meet you.”

“I’m thrilled,” Madara deadpanned. 

“I can see that,” Iruka said, either not noticing his sarcasm or simply ignoring it. “You’ve even dressed up for the occasion.”

“This is my normal attire.”

“Well it’s very…authentic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Madara growled. 

Iruka raised his hands in a show of mercy. “Nothing, nothing. Just that it lends to the period. That’s all. The kids will love it.”

Madara’s eyebrow twitched. _Was this little squirrel calling him outdated?!_

He hadn’t given much thought to his clothing since he’d been living back in Konoha. In truth, he’d never given much thought to it in general. Always preferring functional over flashy, Madara glanced down at his crimson body armor, and wondered for the first time since his resurrection, if maybe it could use some revision. 

But what would he wear instead? Not that horrid green flak jacket, like the man in front of him was donning now. He sneered at it and hoped the obnoxious tree rodent took notice. 

“Authentic,” Madara mumbled. “You must mean well-crafted.” 

“Yes, very well-crafted. I can see that. The detail.” The quake in Iruka’s voice increased as he took hold of Madara’s shoulders and gave the metal plates there a slight shake, testing it out. “They don’t make things like they used to, ha ha!” 

Iruka stopped when he caught sight of the puzzled disgust on Madara’s face and realized that breaking the touch barrier with him was akin to shoving one’s hands into a badger den. He quickly increased the space between them to a safer distance and cleared his throat. 

“We better not keep them waiting any longer.”

Madara rolled his eyes and took a few steps towards the flustered teacher. “Let’s get this over with.”

Flinching slightly, Iruka turned to lead the agitated Uchiha into the academy, trying to forget the danger of having Madara at his back. 

As they crossed the threshold, Madara could hear the muffled sounds of voices and shrill laughter tucked behind closed doors. He remembered sitting atop the Hokage mountain with Hashirama as they dreamed together of a day when children could spend their years in a classroom rather than dying on the battlefield. Something warmed inside of him, starting in his middle and worked its way into the back of his throat. At first, he thought it was another chakra attack coming on, but instead it was—satisfaction? 

He groaned and Iruka stopped to look at him. 

“If this is too much trouble, we can do it another day or I can ask Kakashi…”

“It isn’t that,” Madara snapped. “It was only a passing thought. It would only disappoint the little brats anyway.”

As they entered the classroom, all the chattering stopped as twenty or so tiny heads turned to look at them. 

“Okay everyone, our special guest has arrived,” Iruka announced and Madara tensed. “I would like to introduce you to Uchiha Madara, one of the founders of our great village.” He then turned to Madara and said in a lower voice, “I’ll let you take it from here.” 

Iruka nodded at him and moved to the back, as Madara turned to face the quiet intensity of the class. He swallowed and moved his eyes from one corner to the next to take in all the miniature faces focused solely on him. He couldn’t help but notice that the positioning of the desks gave the children the high ground, putting him at a disadvantage. 

“Hi,” he said with a short wave, realized the awkwardness of it and rested the hand back at his hip, but that was too cocky, so it moved it to his side. He swallowed again. 

“Your Hokage asked me to come speak to you today,” he said and paused, his mind frantically searching for what to say. Why hadn’t he thought to prepare for this ahead of time? “As the squir—Iruka-sensei said, I, along with Senju Hashirama and Tobirama created this village. You probably know them more as the First and Second Hokage.”

From the back, a tiny hand shot up. 

“Yes?” Madara said, pointing a gloved finger at the petite pig-tailed girl. 

“Were you ever Hokage?” she asked excitedly. 

“No.”

“Oh,” she said, shoulders slumping. “Why not?”

“Politics,” Madara grumbled. “And a meddling younger brother.” 

“Your brother didn’t want you to be Hokage?” 

“Not my brother,” Madara said. “Hashirama’s.” 

“The First Hokage?” 

“The First’s brother, Tobirama. He didn’t want me to be Hokage,” Madara corrected. 

“Why?” another child asked.

“How should I know? Tobirama was an uptight obnoxious little di…”

Iruka coughed to cut Madara off. 

“Moving on,” Madara said. “As I was saying, before the consecration of the village, shinobi typically belonged to familial units and clans and these clans…”

Another hand shot up.

“Yes, you. What is your question?”

“If you’re, like, a hundred years old, why do you only look fifty?” the boy asked.

“Fifty? You think I look fifty?” Madara twitched and Iruka made a choking sound from behind him. He couldn’t tell if it was mirth or fear for the poor child that dared tell him he looked half a century old. “I will have you know, I was revived so my visage would be during my prime.”

The boy cocked his head, confused. “I don’t know what that means.”

“More like thirty to thirty-five,” Madara sighed. 

“That’s still old.”

“That’s not old!” Iruka snapped and then mumbled, “I’m almost thirty.”

“Fair enough,” Madara said, crossing his arms. “Any more questions?”

Eight more hands shot up. 

**********  
Kakashi swallowed a chuckle. From where he was perched, he had a perfect view of Madara. He hunkered down further when a small laugh slipped through his lips and he hoped it wasn’t heard through the open window. 

He was surprised to admit this outcome hadn’t been one he’d expected. He’d figured ten minutes tops before the children would have riled Madara enough that he stormed out of the classroom and marched towards the Hokage office to accost him in one fiery ball of bushy haired rage. 

Kakashi had predicted that Madara would arrive to the academy puffed up and annoyed, if he even showed up at all. He never thought Madara would address the children with mild-mannered patience, or even more shocking, uncertainty. 

This side of Madara was new and Kakashi wondered if this was the Madara that Hashirama had placed so much faith in. Not the mentally unhinged man he had fought during the fourth Shinobi war, but the one who set his pride aside to ally with an enemy in order to protect the future. 

“Has he murdered anyone yet?” 

Kakashi flinched at the sound of Sasuke’s voice beside him. He had been so busy listening, he hadn’t heard his approach. 

“Surprisingly, no.”

Sasuke shrugged and leaned into the building. “I suppose there is still time.”

“He’s good with them,” Kakashi said. “The children, I mean.”

“I thought he hated kids.”

“Me too,” agreed Kakashi. “Last week, I had to explain to him that I couldn’t execute children for disrespect. It makes me wonder how much of Madara’s behavior is simply posturing.”

The younger Uchiha grinned. “Without his chakra, everything he does is bravado.”

“Be careful, Sasuke, and never forget who he is. It’s still too soon to let your guard down.”

“Hmph,” he snorted. “I know that. Even without power, he’s still a crafty bastard.”

“Yes, he is.” Kakashi returned his gaze back to the classroom just in time to see a small smile play across Madara’s face. 

**********

The final bell rang and the kids poured out of the academy door. Madara followed not far behind them with Iruka close at his heels.

“It is true what you said about the Second?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

“Even the part where…”

“All of it is true,” Madara said and then groaned when he caught sight of the Hokage.

“We really need to do this again sometime.” Iruka was still talking, but Madara had tuned him out the second he laid eyes on Kakashi, hands in his pockets, standing in the same spot he had occupied earlier. “I’ll talk to the other teachers. I’m sure they’d love for you to come speak to their students too.”

“Did you enjoy the show?” Madara asked smoothly. 

“I did,” Kakashi said, shutting his eyes in a quick smile. “I’m thinking about giving you your own class to teach.”

“I would sooner smother you in your sleep before I let that happen,” Madara sneered. 

“Who says I sleep?”

“Kakashi-sama,” Iruka said. “Thank you again for setting this up. The kids enjoyed having a real life historical figure teach them about the past. Next time, maybe we could hold an assembly.”

“You can leave now,” Madara ordered. 

Iruka paused for a moment and looked to Kakashi for guidance. 

“Come by my office tomorrow. We can talk about it then.”

Iruka bowed and thanked them again, before he walked back into the school, the earlier bounce in his step gone. 

As soon as he retreated, Madara turned and asked, “How long were you watching?”

“Long enough to see the great Madara blush in front of classroom full of kids. I never expected you to be so shy.”

Madara made a sound that was almost a laugh. “You thought you had bested me.”

“I’ll try harder next time.”

“I’m sure you’re already planning my next great adventure.” 

The way Madara was looking at him, with half narrowed eyes, Kakashi thought he almost looked amused. There was a slight bit of mischief behind his gaze and Kakashi wondered if Madara simply enjoyed defiance. 

“I have some ideas in mind. Naruto offered to help keep you occupied.”

“No, absolutely not,” Madara said. “I refuse to engage in any activity that requires the orange annoyance.”

“You shouldn’t have told me that, Dara-chan.” 

This time he did laugh and shot Kakashi a full smile. “Oh, just remember, my dear Hokage, you   
really do have to fall asleep sometime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you winteralley for beta reading this for me! I can’t even express how grateful I am for all your thoughts and comments. I’ve made it my mission to drag you into this ship eventually.


	3. Minor Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara deals with modern life and a meddling Hokage.

Kakashi heard Madara’s voice before he saw him. He was half-way across the store, where he leisurely perused the pet aisle, when the rumbling sound of vexation caused his shoulders to instantly tighten. He was sure they heard the damnable man all the way back in the meat department.

He thought for a moment about leaving his shopping cart and sneaking out the door, but instead ducked behind a neatly stacked display of boxed pastries and watched the man haggle with the cashier.

“22 ryō? For eggs? I’ll only give you 14 and I know they aren’t even worth that much,” Madara snapped. 

From where he stood, Kakashi could see that the cashier was shaken. All the other customers had vacated her line, probably to wait for the crazy Uchiha to complete his purchase and leave.

“I’m…I’m sorry sir. I can’t…”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Madara said and pointed at the young woman. “16 ryō, but you won’t get a penny more from me.”

Kakashi knew he should stop this. He was the Hokage after all, and Madara, with all his eccentricities, was his responsibility. A responsibility that was supposed to be at least partially delegated out.

_Where was Sasuke anyway?_

Kakashi sighed and cursed inwardly for ever letting them both out of prison to being with, before he slid up from behind and threw a couple of coins on the counter.

“What do you think you are doing?” Madara turned toward him, his gaze sharp and intense.

“Ah, Madara, I didn’t realize it was you,” Kakashi said evenly. “It’s usually old women that get this worked up over prices.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“I mean,” Kakashi continued. “You do look the same from behind.”

“Don’t you have some place to be, _Hokage_ ,” Madara spat the last word.

Kakashi turned to the cashier and flashed her a quick eye smile. “My apologies for my friend here…”

“We’re not friends.”

“He spent a lot of time in hell, so his people skills are lacking.”

The cashier quickly gathered the money and processed the transaction. Kakashi took the bag containing Madara’s purchases and began to lead him out of the store as he blustered.

“Are you following me now? Is the brat not enough company for me? I’ll have you know that woman is a thief,” Madara grumbled. “But I’m sure you don’t care about those things. Stealing bloodline limits that don’t belong to you.”

Kakashi’s steps paused only for a moment, a soft laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I’m not the only one that likes to steal eyes, remember?” He pointed to the left side of his face. He watched as Madara’s own eyes traced the curve of the scar that bisected his brow and trailed under his mask. “If I remember correctly, you yanked mine right out of the socket.”

“It didn’t belong to you,” Madara said and lifted his chin defiantly.

“It didn’t belong to you either.”

Madara’s face twitched.

“What kind of person snatches another man’s eye right in the middle of battle?” Kakashi asked.

“A winner, that’s who.”

“But Dara-chan,” Kakashi said and lifted one eyebrow. “You didn’t win.”

A deep growl escaped Madara’s lips, but he didn’t reply. His footsteps took on a heavier sound, as they walked side by side. They continued in silence for about a block before Kakashi brushed a glance in the other man’s direction. Madara’s expression remained blank, as he stubbornly looked ahead to ignore the gaze of his companion.

Kakashi wondered if he had taken it too far. He liked to poke at Madara. Bantering with him had become an interesting game and often broke the monotony of his day. He loathed to admit that he was beginning to look forward to their encounters. Kakashi wasn’t built for desk duty and being around Madara allowed for him to drop the formality to engage in verbal duels of wit.

Kakashi also simply liked irritating him, but not in a malicious way. He knew just the right buttons to push and enjoyed watching the man prickle like a flustered kitten.

Madara had been all mouth when he’d first arrived back in Konoha and he gave the prison guards such a tongue lashing that they had to be rotated out. Sasuke had pleaded to either be moved or executed, anything to get away from his contemptuous predecessor. But when the weeks turned to months and suddenly Madara was alone, the talking stopped. Then the eating.

Every few weeks, Sakura would come down to check on him and monitor his condition, even though the obstinate man kept refusing any sort of medical treatment for his ailments, and it was then that she noticed something was amiss.

_“I know what he’s done,” she had told Kakashi. “But if we leave him the way he is…”_

_“He’s going to die,” Kakashi finished her sentence._

_“Yes.”_

The truth was, Madara deserved to die and some dark part of Kakashi had burned with the desire to let him. There was no way for him to make reparations for what he had done. Not for the war or the heavy death toll that came with it. And not for Obito.

Obito. His name still pulled at Kakashi’s insides. It was Madara who had tainted his friend’s mind and manipulated him to carry out his wicked dream. 

But what if it had been Obito that had lived and not Madara, Kakashi wondered? If it were Obito confined to life imprisonment, left to wither away from guilt and self-hatred? Kakashi knew he would want him to have a chance at atonement, a way back into the light. He knew it was his own bias that kept him from helping the reckless Founder and that ate at him. 

It was then that Kakashi decided that he was going to release him. Against the wishes of the elders, his advisors, and even his friends. The only one that stood by his decision was Naruto, who was all bright-eyed enthusiasm at the prospect of Madara rejoining society.

The bag of groceries rustled as Kakashi shifted it into his other arm. They had arrived at Madara’s house. A little yellow one story, with dark navy shutters, and a low metal fence that squared off the edges of the property.

Kakashi followed him through the gate and up the walk. When they stopped at the front door, the Hokage finally broke the silence, “Madara, I…”

“Do you really think we’re friends?” Madara interrupted, his focus down on the key ring as he fumbled with it. The tone in his voice sounded inquisitive and lacked his usual challenge.

Kakashi blinked at him, slightly stunned.

“Never mind,” Madara snapped and jiggled his keys harshly as he pushed them into the lock. “I just don’t want you misinterpreting my actions. Thinking you mean more to me than you do. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Kakashi’s face relaxed and he gave the other man a quick pat on the back. “I never forget that you’d kill me if given half a chance.”

Madara pushed the door open with a grumble and the Rokudaime followed him inside. Kakashi hadn’t been to Madara’s house since he’d picked it out for him. It had been empty then and he had delegated the task of furnishing it to Shizune.

The floor plan was open, making the main living space feel wide and airy. From where he stood, Kakashi could see her touches in the decorating. The matching gray couch and loveseat, a rustic looking credenza, and impressionistic paintings of scenic landscapes. It was charming.

On top of Shizune’s work was a randomness that could only be Madara’s additions. Cheap bargain store knickknacks, a stack of old newspapers, and candles. So many candles. The scents varied and bore in with such intensity that Kakashi’s eyes watered and he cursed his acute sense of smell. 

He set the bag on a cluttered kitchen table. Madara came up alongside him and started putting away his purchases.

“Madara,” Kakashi asked, looking around his kitchen. “Where are all your appliances?”

“Hmm, oh, you mean those metal monstrosities? I burned them in the backyard,” Madara said it with a degree of nonchalance that Kakashi was left bewildered.

“You burned them?”

“Yes.”

“In your backyard?”

“Of course,” Madara said. “Where else would I have burned them?”

Kakashi moved to the back door, his jaw still slack in shock, and peered out. Sure enough, the burned-out husks of his appliances were pushed to the far side of his yard.

He turned on him, hands in the air. “Those where brand new! Why would you burn them?”

Madara shrugged and said, “I had no use for any of it and there was no other way of disposing of them.”

“You could have told me to remove them. You didn’t have to destroy them.”

“I kept the cooling one. I like that one,” Madara said and gestured towards the refrigerator. “I don’t know why it ruffles your feathers so bad. We didn’t have dishwashers in my day. It was simply taking up space.”

“But you didn’t put anything in its place,” Kakashi said and motioned to the empty hole. “Do you have any idea how expensive that dishwasher was? The taxpaying citizens of Konoha paid for it too and you burned it.”

“If you want them back, you can take it. It’s crowding up my backyard anyway,” Madara said as he placed a jar of peanut butter into the cabinet and shut it.

He was smiling—an evil playful grin, Kakashi noted, and realized that Madara was savoring the opportunity to finally find something that upset him. He rubbed at his face and tried hard to get his composure under control. He took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, but found the tension wouldn’t give and they only tightened back up again.

The village finances had taken a major hit after everything was destroyed during the Pein attack. Coupled with the dwindling missions—an unpleasant side effect of the new era of peace—there wasn’t any room to throw money away. Kakashi hoped the accounting office never found out about Madara’s little bonfire.

“Quick question,” Kakashi said, raising his head. “If you can’t mold chakra, how did you burn them?”

“Yes, that was quite the chore. I didn’t consider that until after I had drug them outside,” Madara said, tilting his head. “My current condition is one I’m still growing accustomed to. Once I had them out of the house, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to summon fire to destroy them, so I walked down to the corner market—it’s less than a mile from here– and bought some accelerant.”

Kakashi could visualize it all in his head. Madara, hauling his large appliances out the backdoor, without the added benefit of chakra aided strength, only to realize that, in order to complete his mission, he would need to go about it the old-fashioned way. He was probably sweating, panting, and irritable by the time he made it to the market.

“I was looking for kerosene or something similar, but was told they were out. I am under the suspicion that the storekeeper was, instead, reluctant to sell me something that could be used for destructive means. So, I bought hairspray instead.”

“Hairspray?”

Madara nodded and pointed to the stack of newspapers, “I drenched the papers in the hairspray and put them inside every nook and cranny I could, before setting it ablaze with a match. I singed all the hairs off my arm.”

_Well, no one can ever call him a quitter._

“Madara, what am I going to do with you? We need to channel that energy of yours into something productive,” Kakashi sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want you lighting anymore fires. You don’t have the ability to extinguish it if it were to get out of control.”

“You afraid I’ll burn my house down and you’ll be forced to buy me a new one?” Madara teased.

“No,” Kakashi said. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself or someone else.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “There you go again, making it sound like we’re friends. I thought we already clarified that issue.”

“You don’t have to like me, but as the Hokage, it is my job to take care of the village and everyone who lives here. And as much as you hate it, that includes you.”

Madara stared at him for a moment and something flickered briefly in his eyes, but it was gone so quick that Kakashi barely saw it.

Vulnerability.

“Hmph,” Madara’s face twisted into a snarl and he glared back at him. “We’re done. I have things to do. I would appreciate if you left me to it.”

“Alright,” Kakashi sighed. “But no more fires. I should have a job for you in a few days. I’ll send for you then.”

“Delightful.”

Madara followed him to the door and shut it hard behind him. He then quietly moved to the window and watched through a part in the curtains as Kakashi walked back the way they had come.

“Imbecile,” he growled to himself.

He then turned and padded back to the kitchen, only to find Sasuke standing in front the fridge, door open, with a carton of orange juice pressed to his lips.

Madara scowled and clenched his fist. “You might as well finish that or take it with you, because I won’t be drinking any after your dirty mouth has been on it.”

Sasuke closed the top and gently placed it back in the fridge.

“I can’t wait to see what he has you doing after you pissed him off like that,” he said and turned to face the older man. 

“He’s fine,” Madara said, as he removed the carton from the fridge and dramatically threw it in the garbage. “It takes more than that to get him angry.”

“Good thing too,” Sasuke continued. “For a second there, I thought I was going to have to leave. Give you two some distance.”

“What do you mean?” Madara frowned. The look on the younger man’s face was smug, which only infuriated him more. “You can’t think that idiot would fight me for destroying a few machines.”

“Fight you? No,” Sasuke chuckled, as he pulled a chair out and took a seat. 

“Whatever. Just get out of my house. I’ve already told you, I don’t like you in here.”

“You know,” said Sasuke, “I would have taught you how to use your oven and dishwasher. All you had to do was ask. Then you wouldn’t have had to destroy them.”

“That…” Madara bristled and his face flushed. “That is not why I got rid of them.”

“I can see you still have your washer and dryer. Too much trouble to burn them all in one day? They aren’t hard to work. If you don’t want me to teach you, I’m sure Kakashi would show you.”

That was it. Madara had had enough. He grabbed the back of the chair Sasuke was sitting in and begun to drag it across the kitchen.

“Madara, what are you doing?” Sasuke asked, but didn’t bother to get out of his seat.

With more effort than he would admit, Madara managed to pull Sasuke and the chair out of the house and onto the back porch.

“I told you to leave,” he said, calmer than would be expected. “Now go, before I decide to set you on fire along with the other contraptions.”

He then turned and stomped back into the house. Sasuke was still laughing when he slammed the door.


	4. A Whole New Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinobi are so insecure.

With the click of the door, Kakashi leaped up, which sent his desk chair skidding backwards and into the wall. He squinted blurry eyes to see Shizune’s form slip in, Ton-ton in one arm and a pile of manila folders in the other. 

“I was only resting my eyes,” he blurted. 

“Hokage-sama,” Shizune said, her back straight. 

“Kakashi.” He corrected. 

“Kakashi-sama, I’ve brought the files you requested.” 

He sighed as he took the stack from her outstretched hand, before he realigned his seat and sat back down. “Thank you. I wanted to look them over again before the meeting.” 

He flipped the cover open on the top file and absently thumbed through the first few sheets. 

“Tsunade-sama was the same way,” Shizune said. 

“Hm?”

“Not sleeping. Worrying about things out of her control.”

“Am I that obvious?” he asked. 

“There’s drool on your mask,” Shizune said and then swiftly added, “sir.”

“Oh,” he mumbled as he ran a gloved hand across his mouth to find there was indeed a wet spot. He didn’t even remember dozing off. 

He knew he hadn’t been sleeping well. Worse than normal, which was erratic at best. Over the years he’d become accustomed to exhaustion. Staying up for days and only giving in when his body finally collapsed into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

That much hadn’t really changed. He only had a better excuse now that he was Hokage. 

“Are the preparations complete?”

“Yes, sir. The main conference room is prepped and our guests should be arriving within the hour.”

“Good,” Kakashi said as he leaned forward in his seat. “We need this go as smooth as possible. What happens today could change everything.”

Skepticism flashed across Shizune’s face, before she quickly schooled her expression again.

Kakashi didn’t fault her for that. He too had reservations, but couldn’t decide if it was the proposal in general that left him on edge, or simply the idea of change. He should be used to it by now, with the way everything had shifted after the war. New alliances brought new committees. Whole buildings had been erected to house departments for international exchange. Old departments, already staffed thin, were stretched even leaner, both from the opening of new positions and the vacancy left from those who didn’t return from the war. 

“I’ve also assigned extra ANBU guards to attend to the entrances,” she added. 

He lifted one of the sheets and examined it with narrowed eyes. “I don’t recall requesting that,” he glanced at her for a moment, before he looked back to the paper. “I’m not even sure what this is. Do you know what this is?”

“I don’t understand any of it,” she said, without glancing at the diagram. “And the ANBU is to ensure that Madara doesn’t interrupt with his histrionics. We don’t need him storming in here like he normally does.” 

“I’m too old for this, Shizune.” He slumped in his chair and returned the sheet to the top of the stack. “You don’t need to worry about Madara. I’ve already taken care of it. He should be here shortly to receive his assignment.”

Another incredulous look, and Kakashi laughed, low and a little raspy from exhaustion. “Don’t worry. I’ve assigned him babysitters to make sure he doesn’t interfere today. They’ve been instructed to physically restrain him if necessary.”

“It still wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave the extra guards.”

“You give him too much credit.”

“And you need to set better boundaries,” Shizune chided and quickly added, “I apologize, sir. That was out of line.”

Kakashi opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” he called. 

“Sorry to bother you, Hokage-same,” Yurito said as he walked through the door. “I just need your…”

“Move out of my way,” Madara snapped as he bumped into Yurito and knocked a stack of papers out of his hands and onto the floor. “The idiot requested my presence.” 

“I'll go triple check everything,” Shizune said, not disguising the roll of her eyes as she turned and walked out. Madara didn’t so much as glance at her as she glided past him. 

“I’ll come back later,” Yurito shut the door behind him. 

Madara stopped directly in front of the desk and peered down at Kakashi with amused eyes. “Well, you look like shit.”

“Thanks. Physical appearance has always been a priority of mine.”

“I hear your sarcasm and acknowledge that we are both under the assumption that your face is hideous under that mask.”

Kakashi stared at him blankly. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but didn’t want to spoil whatever good mood Madara seemed to be having. 

“I have a new assignment for you.”

“Is that so?” Madara said as he leaned over and placed both hands on the Hokage desk. “Another one of your pitiful attempts to humiliate me?”

Kakashi noted how worn his gloves looked, the leather cracked and smudged with dirt. He wondered if he ever took them off, even while sleeping. He should probably wipe the area down after Madara left. Just to be safe. 

“Sadly, no. This is more for your benefit than mine,” Kakashi turned and slid open the top left drawer. “You’ll go to this address. I’ve even written directions to help get you there.”

In the time it took Kakashi to open his desk drawer and retrieve the information, Madara snatched up the top paper from the folder he had accidentally left open. 

“What is this?” He cooed, as he brought the page up to his eyes.

Kakashi’s face remained neutral as he calmly replied, “Ah, that? Something I’ve been doodling.”

“Right,” Madara snorted. “I’ve seen your drawings. If they can be called that. Tobirama was the same way. Ruining important documents with his idle scribbles.” 

Idle scribbles? Kakashi felt his eyebrow twitch. He was aware that he didn’t possess the artist skill of someone like Sai, but he couldn’t be that bad. Could he? He’d like to see Madara do any better. 

That was it. Kakashi pushed away from the desk and stood up. “Enough games,” he said, all humor gone as he extended his arm. “Give it back. It isn’t for you” 

“Oh, is that so,” Madara teased. “Must be important.” 

“Important enough that you shouldn’t be messing with it.”  
He held the paper close to his face, as he turned it sideways. “No, seriously, what is this? Torture machines? Witchcraft?”

In one rapid movement, Kakashi snatched the paper out of his hand and ripped the left-hand corner clean off. Madara stared back him, stunned, before his face curled into a snarl. 

“Scowl all you want to. It wasn’t yours to play with,” Kakashi scolded. “And I think you might need glasses.”

Kakashi knew he had pushed him too far, when Madara’s face reddened, and he suddenly lunged at him. He was easy to dodge. Without any chakra, Madara was clumsy and slow. Even so, Kakashi knew he shouldn’t prolong this, and side stepped when he made another grab for the paper. He kicked his foot out from under him and Madara tipped forward. Kakashi caught him by one arm, promptly twisted it behind his back, and with his other hand, shoved Madara’s face down into the desk. 

“Madara! Calm down.” 

“Just give it to me"

It was at that moment Shikamaru walked in. He made it two steps into the office, before he froze, stalk still like a deer. Too stunned by the sight of Madara bent over and writhing. The Hokage pressed against his backside. 

“Did someone come in?” Madara grumbled. Most of the sound muffled by his curtain of hair. 

It broke Shikamaru from his trance. He quickly covered his eyes and stammered, “I’m so sorry. I’ll come back later.”

“This will only take a minute,” Kakashi chirped and gave a closed eyed smile. 

Shikamaru made sure to throw the lock before he shut the door behind him. 

He turned back to Madara, who had taken to calling him some very creative nicknames. No one had ever referred to him as a “piece of monkey shit” before. Kakashi tightened the grip on his hair, the other hand still locked firm around his wrist. He suddenly became acutely aware of their closeness and noted that Madara felt smaller at this angle. Much less imposing. He was still squirming and the sound of him panting sent a chill through Kakashi. 

He released him and pushed back far enough to give them adequate space. It took a moment for Madara to compose himself and twist back around. Kakashi expected that he might come for him again, but instead Madara turned to him with an expression that was both confused and humiliated.

Without a word, Madara retrieved the address, which had fallen to the floor, and stomped out of his office. 

**********  
Since losing his abilities, Madara had grown accustomed to walking everywhere. At first it was exhausting; incarceration had left him lethargic. Muscles that were once well tuned ached and he grew weary after even short distances. But that was months ago. Now, he spent most of his days puttering around the village and he found the rhythm of it soothing. 

But the people still annoyed him. All of them crowded in the streets, with their crying children and idle chatter. He took mostly to back alleys and side streets in order to avoid the clusters. 

For that reason, he didn’t even look at the directions Kakashi had scrawled. He knew the street, so finding the address was no issue. He wasn’t even surprised when he found himself outside one of those obnoxiously large clothing stores, but that didn’t mean the masked menace wasn’t going to get an earful once he was done. 

“There he is. Madara!” Sakura called waving one arm to get his attention. 

Madara eyes moved between Sakura and the petite blonde that glared at him. 

“Sakura,” Madara groaned as he crumbled the address up and tossed it to the ground. “Are you here to assist me on this little adventure?”

“Kakashi-sensei asked us to help you pick out some new clothes.”

“Of course he did. As if I were a child and not a grown man completely capable of dressing himself.” 

Madara knew the real reason for their presence was to keep him out of trouble. He guessed the old dog was finally catching on that Sasuke did little more than watch his shenanigans unfold. “But why is she here? I don’t need two of you to put pants on.” 

“Gross. Like anyone would want to touch your pants,” Ino sneered and then whispered, “pervert.”

“Trust me, Blondie, you’re not my type,” Madara uncrossed his arms and made his way to the entrance door. “Sakura, grab your Yorkie, so we can get this over with.” 

“Did he just call me a dog?”

Sakura grabbed Ino by the arm, “Just ignore him. He’s only trying to goad you.” 

A soft “ting” rang as they crossed through the door. 

“Hi and welcome to…” a young girl in a blue vest chimed and faltered, her voice trailed off the moment her gaze fell on Madara. 

He swallowed. Did every insect in this village recognize him on sight? Back in his day, a civilian like this would quiver in fear at the sight of him, but the way she was looking at him now wasn’t with fear.  
No, this was disgust. 

It was much the same when the village was founded. No matter what the alliance meant, hostility unmasked itself not just in sideways glances, but in petty ways. Hashirama tried to mitigate some of the trouble, but outside pressure left him placating to the opposition more often than not. 

Madara didn’t really blame him. At least, not as much anymore. He was the one that abandoned their dream, after all. 

He ignored the daggers the sales woman was shooting him and stomped in the direction of the big sign that said ‘Men’s.’

Sakura sidled up next to him. “You missed your last appointment.”

“I was busy.”

“I’m sure,” she said, her steps keeping pace as his stride quickened. “Your therapy appointment too.”  
“I was busy that day as well.” 

“Active life,” Sakura nodded. They had reached the men’s section and Madara was already looking around for something to distract himself with. “Are you at least taking your meds?”

Ino, who hadn’t rushed to keep up, finally arrived behind them. 

Madara eyed her warily. “Why bother? They don’t do anything.”

He made his way to the closest rack and flipped through it quickly, without any real focus. Obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. 

“We talked about this,” Sakura leaned in and whispered. “You’re not going to see the effects right away, but if you give it a little time.”

“Enough,” Madara snapped. “Just give me another appointment and I’ll be sure to be there. I don’t want to yammer on about it today.” 

“If he wants to suffer, just let him,” Ino said. 

Madara ignored her and pulled a shirt from the rack, realized once it was out that it was two sizes too small, and he tossed it to the floor. 

Sakura snatched the shirt off the floor and hung it back up. “What are you doing? You can’t just throw things on the floor.”

“Why have you brought me here?” he groaned, “These garments aren’t suitable for peasants. You might as well fit me with a potato sack.”

Sakura let out an exasperated sigh and pulled a few items off the rack. “See, these aren’t too bad. Why don’t you go try them on?”

“I’m not wearing that.” 

“How about this?” Ino said as she held up a vibrant orange and black one piece. “I think this would look stunning on you.” 

“Be serious,” Sakura scolded. 

“Fine,” Ino sighed. “But we’re not dressing him in blue.”

“Agreed, no blue,” Sakura said. “How about this?”

“Hm, I dunno,” Ino placed a hand on her chin. “His shoulders are too broad for that and I’m thinking he needs a button down. I can’t see any shirt hole being large enough to fit that hair of his. Oh, this one looks nice.” 

“I like that, but maybe go up a size. He’s put on a little weight since he got here.” 

“You both know that I’m standing right here?” he snarled. “I don’t need you picking out clothes for me.”

Ignoring him, Sakura heaved a large pile of garments into his arms. “Here, this should be good for now. Let’s go try them on.” Before he could protest, she was shoving him towards the fitting rooms. 

Madara slammed the door behind him and tossed the clothing on the side bench. 

With a few snaps, he undid his shoulder pads and draped them gingerly on the nearest hook. He did the same with his armor. The rest of his clothing was neatly folded and set in a corner. Once undressed, Madara reached down and pinched a bit of the flesh on his lower abdomen and frowned.

Maybe he had gained a little weight. 

He reached out and took the first shirt from the pile, light-weight and heather gray. The fabric felt smooth between his fingers. He combined it with a pair of black slacks. 

He wondered if the shirt was too snug and sucked in his gut as he gazed at himself in the full-length mirror. The v-neck cut felt strangely…revealing. He stripped them both off and threw them into a corner that he deemed worthy of at least consideration. 

The next was a pale blue short-sleeved with the words “Warning: This T-Shirt May Contain an Idiot” across the front. Blondie’s work, he was sure. He tossed it in the rejection pile. 

“Madara,” Sakura called through the door. “You should come out and model them for us.”

“Not a chance.”

“Just let him finish. The sooner he gets done, the sooner we can leave,” Ino said.

Even at a whisper, Madara could hear her through the thin door. 

“If you have somewhere you need to be, you can go. I can handle this.” Even lower, Sakura added, “I can tell you don’t want to be here.”

Ino let out an audible exhale. “Of course I don’t want to be here. Looking at him makes me sick.” 

There was a crack in her voice towards the end and Madara leaned in closer to the door. A long period of silence followed and he wondered if they had moved farther away. 

“Ino,” Sakura finally said, voice soft. “Is this about your dad?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” her words shook. “I’ll let you handle this. I have somewhere I need to be anyway. See you later, Forehead.”

“Wait! Ino!” Sakura called after her, but Madara could hear her fading footsteps. 

Madara sucked in a deep breath. He now understood the girl’s hostility. Her father must have died during the war. 

He had never been close to his own father. Tajima had been an unaffectionate bastard and the only thing that bound them was blood and war. Madara may have killed him with his own hands if consumption hadn’t taken him first. 

He didn’t even know who her father had been. One of many faceless shinobi. He had no way of knowing how many people he’d killed over the years. Hundreds? Thousands? One doesn’t keep tallies in battle. You only rest your head at night, thankful to live another day. 

_But why did he suddenly feel so guilty?_

“How’s it going in there?” Sakura called and Madara jumped. 

“Fine.”

He turned back to the pile of clothing to continue where he left off. One pile for acceptable, another for rubbish. 

_Who cares if some teenaged girl hated him?_

After he tried everything on, Madara put his old garments back on and handed off the rejects to Sakura. “These ones will do, I suppose.” 

“Good, we’ll call this a win,” Sakura gave him a strained smile. 

Neither one of them mentioned Ino’s absence as Sakura paid for the items and they made their way to the door. 

“Come Monday, I want to see you in my office,” she reminded him and patted him softly on the shoulder. “Promise?”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “I promise.”

**********  
Once back at his house, Madara hung up each new item in his closet, leaving out the first outfit he had tried on. It seemed fitting to show the Hokage that he had completed his foolish task without fail. He thought he might walk over there and gloat before it got too late in the evening. 

As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, Madara pulled at the snug gray shirt and wondered if, maybe, he should have gone with a larger size. Having decided that it looked fine and he hadn’t gained that much weight, he went to flip off the bathroom light and paused at his reflection. 

He was suddenly struck by how a simple change in attire altered his appearance. Smaller, maybe. Less threatening, true. But it was the normality of it he found unsettling. He could be anybody. Not someone legendary, but an average guy just going about his business. 

He looked like a civilian and, Madara thought, he supposed that was what he was now. No longer a shinobi. He’d lost the right to call himself that. 

By the time he left the house, the sun was already low enough to cast everything in a golden hue. It was nearly dark by the time he reached the Administration Building. He was surprised to find the windows of the Hokage office unlit and wondered if Kakashi had decided to take an early night. 

“I agree. It's a risk,” Madara recognized Kakashi's voice and froze where he was. “But we won't move into it blindly. I want more information before I make a solid decision.”

More muffled words that Madara couldn't make out. He crouched to the ground and kept low enough that he was camouflaged by a cropping of boxwoods. 

“It's foolishness,” a woman shouted. Madara recognized her as one of the elders that had argued in favor of his execution. He couldn’t recall her name, nor the older man standing next to her. 

“As it is, the village cannot sustain itself,” Kakashi said firmly. “Missions have dwindled and even if the hadn’t, we don’t have the manpower. We have to adapt.” 

“You'll do what you want either way,” she snapped. “But if things go wrong, you’re the one that will answer for it.” With that, the woman turned and dramatically walked away. Her companion following close behind her. 

Once they were out of sight, Madara watched as Kakashi's shoulders sagged. He stood for a moment like that, before he turned and walked in the direction of the Hokage mansion. 

Madara waited until he was gone to get up from his hiding place. He looked down to find his new clothes covered in dirt. Guess he would have to learn to work the washing machine after all. 

More importantly, what was that idiot up to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been forever since I updated this and I'm so sorry for that! I got sidetracked with other projects, but this is going to be my main focus until I can complete it. I finally know the direction I want to take with it. Poor Madara is going to go through some growing pains before we get there.


End file.
